


Even Guys With Two Left Feet

by mottsfruitcupsofficial



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F!LW too, F/M, Growing Up Together, Smut Eventually, Teen Romance, butch is obsessed, butch is sad, butch's life sucks, from butch's perspective cause i love him, less bullying more teasing, starts off before growing up fast and follows all the opening quests with bits in between
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mottsfruitcupsofficial/pseuds/mottsfruitcupsofficial
Summary: Snapshots of Butch and my F!LW's relationship as they grow up together in the vault.
Relationships: Butch DeLoria/Female Lone Wanderer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Butch can hear Ma yelling her goddamn head off all the way down the hall when he gets back from class. 

The sound bounces off the walls and it’s like she’s yelling all around him. He gets that hot wash of shame like he always does. Someone’s gonna hear her screeching and throwing crap and look at him funny cause of it.

There’s a crash from inside the apartment. It makes the lights overhead flicker. He wonders if he should get someone to calm her down or at least check on her or something, but he really doesn’t wanna ask anyone. There’s not much you can do for Ma when she’s on a bender anyway. 

He might as well let her tire herself out.

He turns his heel and walks off in the opposite direction. If it is something he did that set her off he’d rather save himself the beating, but he doesn’t wanna dwell on it too long or he’s gonna get all panicky. 

When stuff like this happens, he likes to think that if his dad were here he would set Ma straight. Maybe pop her one or two. He doesn’t know too much about him cause Ma isn’t ever in the mood to tell any stories, but from what Butch knows he was a total badass. Ma said one time that he should remember him cause he was around when Butch was little, but Butch can’t remember him at all, and anyway one time she said he died before he was born, so maybe she got it mixed up.

Usually Butch would hang out with Wally and Paul after school, but he doesn’t really feel like seeing them now cause he’s all shaky from hearing Ma freak out. When she’s like this he likes to go down to the sealed living quarters in the lower levels to look around at all the old stuff to cool his head. The lock on it is broken so he just has to make sure no one like Officer Gomez or Wally’s dad catches him sneaking in and then he has the place to himself.

He takes the stairs down, past the reactor level to the old Living Area door, and jiggles it open. They keep the lights off down here cause no one uses it. Instead, they've got dull orange emergency lights that buzz even worse than the ones upstairs. He fishes his flashlight out of his backpack and turns it on. He walks past all the rooms he’s already seen, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any Radroaches. 

If he sees one he’s gonna freak and then vault security is gonna have two screaming DeLorias to deal with.

Apparently, when Old Lady Palmer was young they were still using this place and it was full, but Butch never really listens to her anyway cause she doesn’t like him. She always says that he’s ‘too quick with his hands,’ and that one day it’s really gonna get him in trouble. But it’s not really his fault if he smacks someone for running their mouth cause they had it coming to them anyway.

Butch keeps walking. He shines his light around. Nothing really looks interesting. When he turns ten and he gets his Pip-Boy he won’t have to carry this thing around with him anymore, which will be cool. Then he can just use the built-in flashlight and even listen to the radio at the same time.

Old Lady Palmer came down here the other day to hang out with her husband’s ashes. They keep all the ashes of people that died together in the catacombs down here. 

Butch figures he might as well see what all the fuss is about, maybe say hi to the old man. He hasn’t gone looking for the room with all the ashes yet cause it’s kinda creepy but it’s not like there’s anything better to do today.

The Vault catacombs are at the end of a hallway of storage rooms and it’s one of the only rooms down here that doesn’t have its doors frozen open with the power off. Butch tries to wiggle his foot underneath to get it open, but he ends up crouched on the ground like a goon and manages to pull it up enough to push his backpack in and crawl through the gap. 

He looks up at the room. It’s not any bigger than a storage closet. The walls are stacked to their ceilings with rows of little drawers. Each drawer has someone's name engraved on it. Every family gets its own row. He recognizes most of the last names -- Almodovar, obviously -- Mack, Hannon, Taylor, Palmer… DeLoria. Butch shines his flashlight on his family’s row and starts looking for his dad’s name: Salvatore DeLoria. 

He goes down the list; Armand, Giulia, Luca, Maria, Marco… The last one is Rosa DeLoria, his grandma.

Butch sits down. He scratches behind his ear, shines his flashlight on the DeLoria row again to make sure he didn’t miss anything. But Salvatore isn’t there. Butch sits and stares at all the names lining the walls.

Jiang isn’t there either.

…

Butch sits in there to think for a whole before he crawls out of the catacomb room and makes his way back. Ma lied to him. It wasn’t the first time she had, either. This means any bozo in this vault could be his dad. And next time Wally asks him if he likes a girl, he’s not gonna be able to say anyone cause they could all be his sisters. Or half-sisters. Gross.

When he turns the corner, the beam of his flashlight lands on a Radroach.

Butch freezes to the spot. He manages to hold in his scream. The thing is nearly half the size of him. It’s disgusting antennas feel around and it skitters to a storage crate, rubbing it all over with the dangly things. Butch thinks he might be sick.

He begins to edge around it, very slowly, and once he’s behind it he takes off and promptly trips over another Radroach, dropping the flashlight on its nasty head. It screeches and scuttles off. He stumbles once, twice, and throws his hands out to catch himself and skins them on the metal floor. His hands burn and bring tears to his eyes, but he’s up again, quick as the devil, and leaves the flashlight behind in his haste to get out.

By the time he makes it back to the rest of the vault his hands don't sting so bad anymore but they’re bloody and full of dirt. He’s certainly not gonna ask Ma to deal with it, so he walks to the clinic.

Dr. Jiang’s daughter Daisy is sitting outside on the bench, reading a book. Her hair is in braids today and it kind of looks nice. Soft. She looks up when she hears him coming, glancing over the bloody hands and the dirt on his knees, and adjusts her glasses. She looks like she knows exactly what he got up to and doesn’t care and that always pisses him off. She always has this cool look that adults do -- like she can see right through him.

“Hey, Poindexter,” he tosses to her as he walks in. He doesn’t care either. See?

Dr. Jiang is sitting at his desk and talking to Jonas. They turn to him -- Jonas with the funny look, Dr. Jiang with the easy smile that Daisy is always giving to Amata or Old Lady Palmer. But never him.

“Mr. DeLoria! What’ll it be today?” Dr. Jiang asks as he gets up and walks to the first aid kit. He talks funny. Not like the other adults do. Jonas takes his place at the desk and begins typing at the terminal.

“Well, I -- I was -- I skinned my palms. Cause I was running in the halls and uh. I tripped,” Butch manages, holding up his bloody hands as evidence.

“Running? Was something chasing you? Oh, go and wash them in the sink, please,” Dr. Jiang asks, still smiling. When his hands are clean, he directs Butch to sit down on the examination table and places the first aid kit next to him. Butch holds his hands out so Dr. Jiang can look at them.

“Uh. No. Well, Wally was. And Paul. We were playing tag.” Butch jerks a little as Dr. Jiang sprays his hands with alcohol. His eyes flash up to Butch’s, and for a second Butch is sure Dr. Jiang knows exactly what he’d been up to and would start laying into him. But instead, he just smiles and takes some medi-gel out of the first-aid kit.  
He begins dabbing it on his hands and Butch has to hold in a sigh of relief.

“Be careful when you run around, kiddo. Hardly any traction on the metal floors down here.” He starts packing up the first aid kit. Butch looks down at his hands. They don’t hurt so much anymore. He looks back at Dr. Jiang.

“Are you my dad?”

Dr. Jiang almost drops the first aid kit. There’s a choking sound from Jonas, who slowly turns his head to look at Butch. The desk chair creaks.

“Sorry -- what? What did you say, Butch?” Dr. Jiang asks. His easy smile is a little nervous now. Or a little surprised. Butch wonders idly if they were less special cause he was giving them to whoever looked. Even now.

“Are you my dad? Or do you know who he is?” Butch can’t look him in the eye as he asks. He looks down at his hands instead.

“I… No. I’m not your dad, Butch. And I don’t know who he is. I’m sorry.” And here was the funny look again. The ‘oh, you poor kid’ look. It makes him want to clench his fists but he doesn’t want to wreck his palms again now that Dr. Jiang has just fixed them up. Dr. Jiang turns to Jonas, who was still staring. “Do you think you could go and grab Stanley’s chart for me?” he asks. Jonas looks quickly between the two of them and mumbles ‘sure’ before heading off. Butch watches him go.

“I didn’t really think you were. We don’t look the same at all,” Butch says, gingerly getting down from the examination table. “I just figured you would know. Cause you’re a doctor. Sorry.” He digs his toe into the floor. He wishes it would swallow him up. Dr. Jiang sits back down at his desk and taps his knee awkwardly before looking back at Butch.

“Well, that’s at least one man you can strike off your list, right? And there are not too many other candidates. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.” Another funny smile. Butch just nods. He doesn't wanna figure it out. He wishes he could just know.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he says. He heads for the door.

“Have a good day, Butch!” Dr. Jiang calls. Butch looks back and tries to smile.

“Thanks.”

Daisy is still outside, reading her book. She looks up at him placidly, looks into his eyes. Not at his head or behind him like his Ma was gonna be there with a bottle. Cause that’s all they were ever thinking.

“Do you feel any better?” She asks.

“Not really. A little. What are you reading?” It looks like a medical textbook. 

Daisy smiles at him then, like they were sharing a secret. She tips the book forward and shows him the comic book hidden inside. Grognak. She holds a finger to her mouth. 

Suddenly Butch’s face feels kind of hot. He stares at her stupidly but then remembers he has to speak. “Whoa. Cool!” He manages. She scoots over on the bench and pats the seat next to her. Butch sits down, and she puts the book in his lap.

"It's issue seven. You should read it."

So he sits with her and reads for a while. She smells kinda good.

…

When he gets home later, it's quiet. Ma is passed out on the couch. Butch gets the broom and dustpan and starts sweeping up the broken glass. 


	2. Chapter 2

Butch cranes his neck to watch Daisy’s reaction as they turn on the lights. Everyone is looking, so it isn’t weird. She smiles and thanks the Overseer for her Pip-Boy, thanks her father, thanks Amata. 

Wow. Really?

Butch turns back to Wally just as Paul goes to wish her a happy birthday as well. There’s a sour taste in his mouth. 

He slouches in his seat. He isn’t so sure Amata needs so much brown-nosing from Daisy. It’s not like she did a crazy good job with the decorations, anyway. If they had asked him for help, he could have pinned the streamers up in the corners and stuff. It would have looked better. 

He looks back to Daisy. She’s still talking to Paul. What are they even talking about?

“Hey, Wally. I think Paul’s got himself a new girlfriend,” Butch says. “I think he’s in love.” Paul finally shimmies into the seat next to him, hunching his shoulders. Wally gets in on it too.

“Yeah, Paul. Are you two gonna get married?” Wally leans in, sneering, but sort of smiling too. Like a happy sneer. Paul’s cheeks turn red, and Butch smiles. That’ll teach him. 

He looks around to see where Daisy has gone and nearly swallows his tongue, cause she’s right behind him. Talking to Old Lady Palmer. The old broad gives her a sweetroll after she’s done yammering on, and Daisy smiles placidly at her. She looks at Butch and catches him staring. Butch turns back to Wally in a hurry. 

Just in time to see Andy wreck the cake.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to Daisy, who is carefully fitting one of the party hats over her head so she doesn’t mess up her braids or her glasses.

Butch yanks on the back of her suit and she starts. She turns to him, not bothered at all that the stupid robot just ruined her birthday cake.

“Hey. Give me that sweetroll you got from Palmer, Pipsqueak,” he says, just barely keeping his voice steady. She just smiles at him.

“I already ate it. There’s plenty of cake, though,” she says, and turns around to maneuver a chunk of it onto a plate. She leaves him behind and walks over to Stanley. Wally snickers.

His face feels a little hot. Warm.

Wally snickers at him, and says “I don’t wanna eat that crap. It looks nasty.” Butch kicks him under the table.

“Stop being such a little baby,” he says. Paul mumbles that he doesn’t think it looks so bad, either, and Butch smiles and claps him on the back. Wally glares at them both, so Butch decides to change the subject.

“What are we gonna name our gang, huh? Think of something cool. What about the Red Rockets?” He doesn’t really pay attention to their answers, though. Instead, he cranes his neck to watch Daisy as she walks to her dad near the door and leaves. Just up and leaves her own party. What the heck? She barely even talked to him.

“I think we should call ourselves the Vault Dwellers,” Paul says without a hint of a joke. He really must be as dumb as he looks.

…

When Butch gets home after the party, Ma is sitting on the couch with a bottle of vodka in her hand. She drags her dead eyes over to him at the door and Butch feels a bit like a rat when he creeps inside. He tries to beeline it for his room, but Ma stops him.

“Why are you home so early,” she says. It’s a question, but there’s no question in her voice. 

She sounds pretty mad. Was he supposed to come home late? Did she tell him to? 

He looks at Ma.

She looks back to the TV.

“The party ended, so…” He mumbles. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps watching her show. He’s not there anymore. 

He starts walking past her and nearly jumps when she talks again.

“You were supposed to clean the kitchen before you left,” she says. Oh, crap.

“O-oh, shoot. Sorry, Ma. I’ll do it right now--” he starts, but Ma clicks her tongue. 

“I did it myself.” She says. Not to him, but to the TV. “I got home after working nine hours, while you were at your stupid little party, and cleaned the kitchen. Because you were too lazy to do it yourself.” She turns to him now. 

“Come here,” she says. She points to a spot right in front of her.

Butch walks over. He looks down at his feet. 

Ma sits up and leans forward. With her free hand, she grabs his jaw and forces his head up. Butch looks her in the eye, for a moment, and then to the wall behind her. He doesn’t bother opening his mouth. He knows she has more to say.

He might as well let her tire herself out.

...

Butch shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks, and then takes them out to wipe his nose and rub his stinging cheek. He’s decided he’s going exploring again. He’s gonna listen to Glen Miller when he gets downstairs. That way, he won’t have to sing along cause the inside of his mouth hurts.

On the reactor level, he nearly jumps at the noise. Like a door slamming, but sharper. And louder. And a click-click.

He follows the sound down the hallway to find Daisy shooting a BB gun. He blinks a few times.

“Whoa,” he says, and Daisy jumps about two feet in the air. She whirls around.

“Butch! Geez, you scared me!” He doesn’t usually get the drop on her. That’s kind of cool. She never gets surprised.

“Nice set up you got here, Pipsqueak,” he says as he walks up. He flicks her on the forehead. She’s about to jab him in the side in retaliation, but she stops. She’s staring at his cheek. 

His hand flies to his face to cover it up, and Daisy whips her head to her feet. 

It must look pretty bad. Daisy doesn’t say anything, though. He’s never seen her this nervous. 

She looks back at him. In the eye.

“Do you wanna try shooting it?” She asks. She holds the gun out. Butch lets his hand fall and grabs the gun from her.

He steps in front of the makeshift range and aims for one of the targets. He squeezes the trigger. 

Click. 

Huh? Did he break it already?

Daisy edges around him. She’s smiling a little and Butch feels his face heat up. “You gotta, uh,” she says, making a pumping motion and pointing to the gun, “Reload it. Like a shotgun.”

“Oh,” he says. He pumps it and shoots again. It hits the wall behind the target. Oh, Christ. 

Daisy taps his shoulder.

“If you hold it like this,” she pretends to hold it, hunching forward a little and squinting, “It’s easier to aim.”

Butch mimics her stance and shoots again. He hits the pole of the target. Daisy places her hand on his elbow gently and Butch jerks away before his head explodes.

“Sorry. Tuck your elbows in,” she tells him. He does. When he shoots again, he hits the target. He turns to Daisy to check if she saw.

She saw. She smiles at him. 

“Good job. You should go again.”

He stays with her and shoots for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i like switch butch
> 
> also theyre abt 15 in this one

Butch runs a comb through his hair one last time. It's hard to get the curls to stay down but it looks pretty good today, which is good. 'Cause today is a very special day.

He gives the mirror his best James Dean and fluffs the collar of his new leather jacket. It’s got a fucking sweet snake on the back, and both of his boys have a jacket to match.

Mr. Brotch is going to change the seating arrangements today. And Butch is going to sit behind Daisy Jiang.

He’s not quite sure how 'cause they’re doing a draw. But he’s gonna make it happen.

He strolls out of the apartment. Ma isn’t up yet, of course, so he’s free to really add some pep to his step. He walks to class.

Yeah. Butch is gonna sit right behind Daisy Jiang. He’s gonna tap her on the shoulder and ask her for help with math stuff, charm the shit out of her, and invite her to hang out at the cafeteria after school. They’re gonna get paired up for projects and do worksheets together, and it's gonna be fucking sweet. He can't help but smile a bit as he walks. 

In a month’s time when the winter dance comes around, he’s gonna ask her to go with him, and she’s gonna swoon into his arms, and go “Oh, Butch! Indubitably!” And then they’re gonna kiss.

He’s got it _all_ figured out. 

She’s not gonna give a shit that he used to steal her glasses, either. Or that he used to call her Poindexter, or that he broke her BB gun one time when they were eleven. Or how he spilled juice on her Grognak issue #7 she lent him. Or that other time --

Nah. Nothing to worry about. Stop worrying about it.

Butch turns the corner and finds himself in front of the schoolroom. Paul and Wally are leaning against the wall outside.

“Morning, boys!” He says. He gives them both some skin as he heads inside. Daisy is already sitting at her desk at the front of the class, talking to Freddie and Amata. She looks behind her when she hears him, and then Freddie starts talking to her again and she looks away. 

“Someone’s raring to go,” Wally snickers as he and Paul follow him in. Butch rubs his hands together. Baby steps.

Butch wears cologne, now. He shaves like, twice a week. When they sit together she’s gonna be close enough to smell the aftershave, and really start looking at him like he's a man. 'Cause he is, now. And women love pheromones.

Butch slides into his seat at the back of the class just as Mr. Brotch walks in.

“Goodmorning, everyone,” Mr. Brotch says. “Before we start analyzing Chapter Thirteen of Catcher in the Rye, we’re going to be shuffling the seating arrangements by way of a draw, as we agreed last week. Thank you for the idea, Mr. DeLoria.” Butch gives Mr. Brotch a thumbs-up, but Mr. Brotch isn’t too impressed with it, so he gives him a smile, too.

Mr. Brotch ignores him and holds up a basket.

“Everyone, please write your seat number by row and column and place it into the basket. Let’s make this quick and easy.”

Everyone does as he says, and Mr. Brotch walks through the class to pick up the papers.

Yeah. This is smooth sailing, so far. Which is good, cause he’s gotta lock Miss Daisy down before some other bozo does.

The other day, everyone was eating together in the cafeteria and she ended up sitting next to him. By pure luck.

When she reached for the pepper their thighs touched and he nearly creamed his jeans. What happens when he’s not around and she has to sit next to some other guy? Is he gonna cream his jeans too? The girl is a _succubus_.

“Alright, draw your new seating number from the basket and switch," Mr. Brotch says "If we want to talk about Phoebe today we’re gonna need all the time we can get.” He comes around again with the basket. Butch draws seat 3A and goes to stand next to it so he can watch as everyone shuffles around. Paul slides into the seat behind him with a nervous smile.

“Looks like we’re, uh, gonna be desk buddies, huh?” He stammers. He’s so fucking awkward. Butch doesn’t even bother replying. He watches Daisy as she reaches her hand in the basket and pulls out her number.

So, basically, he’s decided to start confronting this Daisy issue head-on. From a procreational stand-point, too. With all this talk of baby stuff and ‘for the good of the vault’ crap, if he digs his heels in any longer Susie Mack is gonna chain him to her bed and start popping out three-eyed babies.

And we can’t have that, cause Mack senior is Suspect Number One. Cause all the Macks are fucking perverts and it would take a real hound dog to -- y'know. With his Ma. Yuck.

Across the room, Daisy gets up and walks to her new seat near the back of the class. And walking towards her is none other than Freddie Gomez.

“Hey! Freddie!” Butch hisses. Freddie looks his dumb head around. “Freddie! C’mere. Get over here!” Butch beckons him over wildly. Freddie frowns and walks over.

“What’s up, Bu-” Butch doesn't bother letting him finish.

“Freddie. Listen, buddy,” Butch says, keeping his voice low. He puts his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

Paul looks between them.

“Can I be real with you? I can’t fuckin’ sit here.” Butch gestures to his seat next to Paul, who’s smart enough not to look offended. “There’s a draft coming in from the vent, and I got asthma. I’m gonna be coughing up a fucking lung if I sit here, so could you do a pal a real solid and switch seats with me? Buddy?” A smile isn’t gonna work here, he thinks, so he goes for a more sincere expression. Kind of a pout.

“Oh, uh. I mean...” Freddie looks back to Daisy like a sad dog and twiddles his thumbs. “I was just kinda hoping--”

Butch snaps his fingers in his face. “Here, Fido. You’re talking to me. Did you not hear what I just said? Asthma. It’s horrible. You wanna fuckin’ watch me choke to death on all this dust coming out of the vent?" Freddie shakes his head. "No? Then give me that fucking ticket.” Freddie hesitates. Butch squeezes Freddie’s shoulder and raises his eyebrows. He holds out his hand.

Freddie gives him the ticket. Butch smiles. He slaps Freddie on the back.

“See you later, Paul,” he says, and makes his way over to Daisy.

“Oh, wait! Butch!” Freddie calls. Butch freezes. His eye twitches. “There’s a vent over there, too! Are you gonna be okay?”

Butch marches back over to Freddie and looks down his nose at him.

“ _I just remembered I have my inhaler in my pocket,_ ” he says through his teeth, looming over Freddie. Freddie swallows and sits down.

"Okay," he says nervously, nodding. "H-hope you feel better, man!"

Finally, Butch walks to his new seat. He sits down with a pleased sigh.

Right behind Miss Daisy.

So, yeah. Daisy Jiang all the way. Day one, baby. She has great hair, her breath doesn’t smell, and she's super smart. And when she smiles it's like you really earned it, you know? And she's pretty, too. Obviously. Basically the total package.

Butch clears his throat and tries to sound surprised.

“Daisy! Funny seeing you here. You come around here often?”

Daisy turns her head to him and cracks a bit of a smile. Score. She faces the front again when Mr. Brotch claps his hands.

“Everyone got their seats figured out? _Good._ Page 57 of Catcher in the Rye.”

The vent blows a gentle breeze that carries the scent of her shampoo right into his nose. Butch unzips his jacket and has to flap it to get some air.

He’s hot all of a sudden.

...

By the time they get to vectors in math class, he’s twirling the ends of her hair between his fingers. There are a few split ends, but it's soft. Really soft. And it’s so long that she probably won’t even notice that --

Her head slowly turns and she’s looking back at him. Butch freezes. They’re looking at each other.

Her arm moves, and she reaches her hand back to where he’s stroking the end of a lock of her hair between his thumb and his pointer finger.

 _Oh my God_. Is this happening?

Two of her fingers grasp one of his. The lock of hair he was holding falls back onto her shoulder.

She pinches his finger. Hard.

Butch almost pisses himself. He pulls his hands and his eyes back to his lap in a flash. Then, he cautiously looks back up at Daisy. She’s laughing at him quietly, which is good. She’s not mad.

He smiles a little, too. But then his face falls when she gathers her hair and pulls it over her shoulder. Where he can't touch it anymore.

She looks back at him again. “I’ll let you know when you're allowed to touch it,” she whispers.

Butch swallows the lump in his throat and nods.

When she looks back to the board, he has to adjust his pants.


End file.
